Never Mine
by personafour
Summary: Every day, the barely-hanging-onto-life writer would enter the small tea shack and every day, he was greeted by the same long-haired waitress with a smile.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

* * *

Troubles came and went by.

Daily, there were things that went through the man's mind. They would pile up and stay there until he had the willpower to finally get off his ass and do something about it. Perhaps one day he would be able to see his toes along with his floor if the mess were cleaned up. Perhaps one day he'll take up Naruto's offer to get a job instead of staying at his shitty one-room apartment he can barely afford and write for a newspaper that he himself doesn't even take the time of day to look through and read.

Perhaps he'll even quit cigarettes. It seemed like a simple enough task until his finger automatically dug through his pocket with dozens of holes (Due to his uncanny obsession with carrying sharp, wooden pencils upside-down in them for reasons even he didn't quite understand) for a spare cig he managed to snag from one of the homeless guys on his block.

Yes, this was the _life_. And let it be known that he was doing decent as he strived to look forward and to never turn back while living it. Being only nineteen, it shouldn't be a surprise that he was barely hanging on to what is known as 'freedom' to most. Honestly, he had no idea that this was what he was expecting as a kid. He kind of wished he knew what he had coming to you know, change it or something.

"_Murder in Osaka. The family known popularly as the Hyuugas were slaughtered in a terrible car accident. The opposite driver was not intoxicated, forensic team have determined. This was a plot to annihilate the prosperous clan, taking the lives of the three main members of the triumphing billionaires—Hyuuga Hiashi, Hyuuga Neji, and Hyuuga Hanabi. Whereabouts of any other relatives are unknown. Stay tuned for more on this tragedy at eleven."_

The mini, white—well you could say 'beige' at this point, it was getting dusty and dirty from not cleaning the place in a while—television that was placed on his huge stack of manga issues, showing absolutely no color (As if he had the cash to buy modern flat screens, he snagged this piece of junk at thrift store a few months ago for only six hundred yen), with barely any sound, continued to show the newscast and all he could do was stare.

Here he was, eating tomato soup that his best friend always bought for him because he just couldn't keep track of his low-income funds to save up for some nice food, sitting on the floor that was tainted with dozens of papers he had written and crumbled up into paper balls all across the room, watching something so sad on the screen in front of him, and yet feeling relieved that he wasn't the only one with the terrible life.

Well to be fair, it wasn't terrible to him. He was satisfied with barely making it out alive, with barely having something to eat, barely having a place to stay, and barely having any friends that know of his well, poor situation, but he was relieved because, well, it _could be worse_.

Those three words are something symbolic to Uchiha Sasuke. He just did not care for anything besides himself and what was expecting him in the future. He did not care that a family was murdered for who knows what—fuck, maybe they _deserved_ it. The media only tell the victim's side, and never tell the attacker's vision on what occurs in the violent crimes of the modern era.

And who was he to take sides anyway? He didn't care. The only reason why he even paid attention to the report was because that was the only channel he had that didn't require him to pay for it. Yeah, that was why. If he barely gave a shit for his wellbeing, both emotionally and physically, what made that blond news reporter think that he really cared about how hard she tried to seem upset over the news while at the same time trying to look seductive on camera by pressing her breasts together to make said mountains look like Mount Everest?

Nice hooters and all, but really, was it really the time to do something so unnecessary? Shameful little bitch.

He felt the barely heated soup on his tongue itch and for some reason, he was perfectly fine with that. Because he loved tomatoes. They were bitter sweet. He wasn't fond of sweet items; then again, he couldn't afford to even try any of said edible delicacies anyway. The soup had gone cold while his best friend drove up to his apartment in the inner city of Ikebukuro. It felt dry in his mouth, and not moments after realizing that the rest was just boiled water, he brought the tiny bowl to his chapped lips and drank up the rest of his dinner.

There. That would suffice for the next fourteen hours. Yes, he writes down when he eats and when he doesn't. And having barely starving himself for an experiment, he had concluded that he could last fourteen—straight—hours without food nor water, until his stomach gave in and grumbled like a starving elephant. That was probably a bad exaggeration but you get the idea.

And now it was time to burn some calories in this nice, cool and breezy weather that is the busy city of Ikebukuro, Japan. He placed his beanie over his spiked up—he cut it himself, and frankly, he didn't care if the tips were uneven, although those 'chicken ass' comments really needed to stop—and wrapped his scarf around his slender neck as he pushed out his broken door—that really needed to get repaired but damn, he was just too poor to get that shit fixed right now—and climbed down the steps towards the windy streets.

It was only six-thirty in the evening, the skies were dark, the sidewalks were busy, people walked by him, some staring, some glaring—it was all the same.

"He's so handsome!" A few teenage girls, probably two to three years younger than him, chimed in unison and for some reason he turned his head to face them and gave them a half-assed grin, exposing his stubble and his dead-like, pale face.

But they didn't seem to mind. They took-in his appearance and cooed together with giggles mixed in between. It was actually quite a shock that his clearly evident, purple bags did not drive them away. Did the look of being exhausted really seem so damn attractive? What kids found 'hot' these days, he'll never understand.

He winced as his fingers met with his sharp pencils in both his stuffed pockets and sighed knowing that he ran out of cigs. It just sucked because tonight happened to have the best weather and he was missing out on ruining his lungs with the cold breeze slapping his cheeks with fresh, shivering air, which also made his face flush, giving his normally pale as a ghost skin some color besides white.

He counted the change in his pocket and smirked. He had seven hundred yen; maybe he could get some hot tea at the local shop down the street. He let his thin and tall legs lead him towards said shack that just happened to be placed in between two tall (And expensive looking) condominium buildings.

Pushing the glass door open—a bell rung above his head to notify that, well, a customer was entering—he felt the warm heat against his clearly shivering body. But he didn't show that he was cold, so it didn't really matter. Being the poor bastard that he was, he of course didn't have the delight of having heat in his pretty sad apartment, so if he had enough change, he'd stop by the teashop to feel the warmth if only for an hour whenever he could.

Which was basically every day. He was well-known for stopping by for tea in the evenings, and luckily, no one minded his presence. You'd think that they'd assume someone that wore the same thing all the time (He also did not have the luxury to owning more than two shirts, a jacket, and a pair of pants and shoes and also a free beanie that he won at a contest two years back in high school) would cause trouble.

But nope, he did none of those things. He waited at the desk, staring around the familiar area, watching people come and go with a tiny cup of tea held between their bare or mitten-covered hands. But he waited, not wanting to automatically find a tiny table to sit at like he could. He waited, because one of the highlights of his evenings was bound to appear before him to greet him.

"Oi, Sasuke! Good evenin' to ya!" Tenten, the crazy head-manager of _10-10 Tea_s_hop_ cheered in glee at the sight of the customer that she practically depended on for any income this late at night. "The same old?"

He would've rather been greeted by _someone else_, so of course the cat took his tongue and twisted it around as he asked, "Where is she?"

"Oh, didn't you hear what happened?" This obviously startled him. What did she mean? "Did you catch the news? The Hyuugas…well, her family. They're gone."

All of the murmurs throughout the tiny teashop felt like they were being drowned in his mind. It didn't take him one but five seconds to realize that he had zoned-out. "Where is she?" He repeated.

She sighed, tugging out one of her rubber bands that kept her long, brown hair into her signature buns. She began to twist and curl the wild hair she had released from the band's tight hold as she spoke. "She's out back. She didn't want me to tell you, really. But it's okay. I know you're good."

There was something about that sparkle in her huge, brown eyes that practically screamed at him with something along the lines '_Go_'. So, he did, with a slight nod as he permitted himself with the privilege to pass by the crowds of old-timers enjoying their tea, to the teenagers that were all huddled together for warmth and laughing in joy, and being able to reach the back-door that was just as hard to open as his apartment's front door into the alley around back.

It only took him the sight of her long, indigo-tinted hair that was touching the snowy ground to realize she was huddled into a corner near metal trashcans, with her knees brought up to her chest. And even as upset as she looked, with her head lowered, and with the tears staining the ground that was frozen, she still looked beautiful.

So in a way, he could understand why his face—so boring, so plain, nothing else but his sharp bone structure as something that captivated many females in the past and present to look his way—held so much attraction to others as hers did to him.

Her muffled cries were low, and she brought her mitten to wipe her tears. Aside from the trash bin next to her, the rest were scattered around her, trash bags torn, all of them rolling down the alley with such force. She must've kicked them or something. With just the sound of his boots hitting against the snow, she looked up, unsurprised yet startled all the same, to see him there, standing, shivering to his very bones, and even that didn't cheer her up.

And he knew this. "Hey." He wanted to hear her voice. Because even if he was well-aware that she was suffering at the lowest point of her life, he needed her too for his own sanity as well, damn it. He craved the softness of her voice and well, he needed it right now, thank you very much. It still pained him to see her lower lip quiver, however. He didn't want to ask what was wrong because he knew. He knew and all he wanted to do was make her smile like before.

He got to his knees, refusing to acknowledge how his bare knees—seeing as his jeans had holes on both—freezing with the contact of the chilly ground. He could handle it. Starvation and lack of hygiene and well, immunity were things that have helped him evolve into the man that could withstand anything with no sense of care.

Rubbing her eyes once more, she pushed her bangs to the side—her forehead was so white, as if she had a mini-moon hovering right above her eyebrows—to show just how red they were. Her pearl-orbs looked strained and tired. Tired of crying, clearly. He could see the sadness in them, looking like glass, easily able to be shattered; to be damaged with a swift of his fist. He didn't like how vulnerable she looked. He detested it.

"You came," She breathed, a tiny smile forming.

'_No, quit that. You know you don't want to smile. So please, don't._' He was hoping that his thoughts were telepathically sent to her mind, but you know, that isn't possible, so he sighed. "Of course I did." He mumbled.

He always came to see her. And to snag a cup of tea. Why would he give that little brightness of his evenings up?

"I'm sorry I didn't greet you, I just couldn't today," She gasped in between breaths. She felt like her throat was suffocating with chokes that she couldn't keep within.

"It's alright. Do you want my coat? You're shaking." When had he ever shown concern for anyone that wasn't her?

"Stop t-that! You know you need it more than I do!" She whispered harshly, her eyes still releasing tears that fell down her flared cheeks. "I'm sorry I wasn't doing my job, help me up so that I can make you some tea and I'll get over this soon enough."

"Shut up, you're being stupid." He barked back. "How can you even say that right now? This isn't about me so quit turning this shit around."'

She slumped back into her previous position, taking in a few breaths. "So she told you, eh? F-figures."

He felt bold and held her shoulders with both hands. "Can you shut up? Who cares if she did? I had a bad feeling anyway. I assumed something bad was going to happen and here I am."

"Why do you care anyway? All you want is your damn tea!"

"This isn't _about_ some fucking tea that isn't even that great anyway, damn it!" Her eyes widened, staring back into his onyx-black ones. He really needed a cig. Badly. But that could wait. He could buy a packet with his spare change later tonight after he finished his business here.

"Who the hell are y-you to even barge into my life anyway?"

"It doesn't matter if you want me in or not, I'm here and I am not fucking leaving you to get pneumonia in the cold when you work in a nice and fucking cozy teashop that's literally right in front of you."

There was silence for a moment. Maybe his words were getting through that thick skull of hers or something. She was right—what right _did_ he have to meddle with her wellbeing? He wasn't her guardian. Nor her, well, _boyfriend_. Wasn't her husband to nag her, wasn't anything but a mere customer to the woman that he just happened to fall in love with one day a year ago when he first entered the (At the time) newly opened tea-shop.

She was gasping, and all he could do was watch. As her eyelids shut completely and as she pressed her head against his chest, sobbing silently. "I'm sorry I'm s-staining your coat," She had whispered in between her heavy breathing. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up and let it all out,"

Her tiny arms wrapped around his freezing corpse-like thin body tightly, bringing him closer to her. He used his bare fingers to run through her damp, now frizzy, long hair, letting her stain his clothing, letting her breath into his chest, and letting her let out what he unfortunately would never be able to do if he was in her position.

"I just wish I was there for them! And haven't have left! And haven't have been such a nuisance to them! And haven't have abandoned them! And haven't have disappointed them! And haven't have stopped loving them!" She moaned into his chest, and really, it was a miracle he managed to understand every word she briefly whispered.

Why was it her fault that they were complete assholes to her as she was growing up? From those brief conversations she had with him in the past, she would mention her family at least once or twice—about how they didn't like her way of living, her way of thinking, and eventually cut her out from everything. And now, they paid the price and were out of her life and their own for good.

Now, they were no better than ashes in a tiny, tin box.

They didn't deserve her love! And her suffering! They were _scum_, always preferring their benefits of everything over her happiness. And it was true, she hated them. For everything they had done to her. For all the suffering they put her through. Sasuke was well-aware of how much she detested them.

But they're her family, so of course it's common knowledge that she'll shed undeserving tears for those people.

But that's probably why he loved her so much. More than words could describe. For being weak for the stupidest reasons. For having feelings for those that did not deserve it. He loved her for _feeling_ for everyone. And that was just it. That right there was the reason why he spent his left-over change for these moments with her.

Because she was worth him having to work a bit harder to be able to spend all of his money to see her. To have her cling onto him, during her darkest times; he didn't ask for her unhappiness, but he was glad she gave him enough trust to let him in, even if he wasn't initially wanted.

"Sasuke, I l-love you."

"Don't go spouting stupid shit, idiot. You have Naruto, remember?" As much as it pained him to know that she belonged to another, it was the truth. As much as it pained him knowing that those words could've made him the happiest man alive, he knew it was just something she said in the moment and predicament they were currently in.

"But I can't d-do this with him," She whined, using his coat to wipe her tears.

"Doesn't matter. You'll have to someday soon. You're engaged, and someday you won't need me."

She looked at him, those glassy eyes giving him a message that literally could've stabbed him if they were true swords.

'_I will always need you._'

"Don't look at me like that, idiot."

Yeah, how did it feel to hold your best-friend's fiancée in your arms? How did it feel to be in love with said woman for over a year? How did it feel to know that she wouldn't be working here in a month, because she'll join his best friend into eternal happiness elsewhere?

_Shitty_.

* * *

_A/N: I hope this turned out good. I actually was crying a bit writing this. New story, clearly. I hope you enjoyed it? Could I get some honest critiques on it, please? Also, I obviously own nothing but the plot so um, cut a girl some slack and lemme know what ya think. ~personafour_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

"Things are crazy! Did you know Hina's friend is forcing me to buy a tux? Me! A tux! For a stupid dinner! It's so _lame_ and pointless!" The usually cheerful and optimistic blond went on, using his fork to wrap the strings of ramen around his utensil before shoving it in his mouth and leaving said fork clean of anything that was previously on it. "Don't get married. Ever. Because there's so much to do!"

"You were the one who proposed, _Dobe_. Don't blame anyone else for it." Of course, his feelings for his best friend's happiness weren't sincere at all. I mean, how do you tell your best friend that you wish nothing but the worst for him for stealing the one woman that makes you happy while still maintaining the friendship?

Oh, right. You _can't_. Because it's impossible.

"And I don't regret it!" He gave Sasuke the cheekiest grin, before bringing the plastic cup of ramen he heated up in three minutes in his microwave to his lips and chugged any last remains of his instant dinner. Every Friday night, they'd head to Naruto's apartment for dinner and watch anything on his huge 40" flat screen he always boasts about. And Sasuke lets him because Naruto never has anything to be proud of considering he's, well, Naruto. "She makes me the happiest in the world. It's only fair I do the same for her, right?"

And there he goes, chuckling to himself with that huge smile of his. The smile that captured the beautiful waitress he wished was _his_. It wasn't fair. He didn't deserve her. And Sasuke knew that thinking in such a way was terrible, especially for someone like Naruto—that had been helping him out in every way possible, that had been his first and only friend he could trust since they were kids. It did pain him—deep down—that he couldn't provide the support he was supposed to because of one woman.

"Oi, you okay? You're not eating…want more tomato soup? I bought more!" Naruto got up from his cushion off the ground and yelled "Wait there!" before snatching Sasuke's nearly empty bowl and heading towards his kitchen to serve his best pal more of the soup he managed to buy earlier.

Things like those made Uchiha Sasuke feel like a shitty person. For thinking so negatively towards someone that always gave him the support he needed at every given moment. It just sucked because he couldn't _help_ it. It was a done deal. The moment he walked into that damn tea shop and saw that tiny, yet shiny, silver band on her finger instantly killed him.

It was just hard. And it didn't help that literally everyone gave them their fucking blessing. I mean come on, now! How come no one noticed when _he_ tried to get the girl? Why is it alright for Naruto to snatch her away, and the worst part, without even realizing that Sasuke, his best _friend,_ saw her first?

Knew her first?

_Loved _her first.

It just wasn't fair. And while he was free to have an opinion, that wouldn't fucking change. But as previously stated, Sasuke valued his friendship. And for that very reason, he decided to put up with it, although he sincerely wished it would cease from happening for his own benefit.

Love makes you bitter. It makes you weak to the person you adore, and it makes you sinister to anyone else that trespasses with that love. And it meddles with your reasoning on what is right, and what is wrong. And nineteen year old, almost homeless Uchiha Sasuke knew this feeling too well.

"So, what's the set date?" Sasuke mumbled as he began to pace around the small quarters of the living room. Naruto's apartment lived up to the infamous Uzumaki name—it was gloriously and ridiculously expensive. The walls were painted with a dark, honey-glossed coating, with bright orange, leather couches surrounding the secluded area that surrounded his enormous television that was hung on the wall. Frames of pictures that ranged from Naruto's family to pictures of him and his _fiancée _were placed on the tiny coffee table in the middle of the couches. The room was too clean to be the work of Naruto. She clearly had to do with the apartment being so spotless.

"Two months!" He cheered as he brought back the soup to the dining table. By then Sasuke was already seated once more. He didn't want to look at those pictures. Them, happy? Not ever going to faze him.

"So soon?" It came out more edged then intended. She told him a year! He thought he had time…to break them up. He had hoped he had time to change her mind. To make her see that _he_ deserved her so much more than Naruto.

"Gee, way to be happy for me!" Naruto rolled his eyes playfully. "She wanted it to be as soon as possible. And I'm okay with it because I know she's the only one for me."

"Hn." Sasuke picked up his spoon and began to scoop dozes of the tomato delicacy to his lips to swallow. Not even the burning and wonderful taste of his favorite food was helping him maintain his composure. How exactly does one react to news like that?

She lied to him. _Lied_. You don't lie to Uchiha Sasuke. Because it's bad enough he has trouble trusting more than two people anyway, but to abuse his confidence and giving him false hope and an unfair amount of time to undo what would happen wasn't fair to him.

He was going to have to pick a bone with her. '_Bitch_.' He couldn't think of any other word to call her right this second. Of course he didn't completely mean it, but he was sure he had every right to be upset.

"If you don't mind I'm going home."

"Aw, come on! I bought DVDs for this!"

"I'm tired." Sasuke got up from his comfortable position in his chair and left. And only then was he able to sigh to himself before heading to the place he knew he'd find her in.

* * *

"You're mad at me, right?" She said as she placed the tiny cup of tea in front of her customer before sitting across from him with a worried look on her face. Even upset she was cute, and he hated it. He detested the fact that just her _being_ in front of him felt so right.

"Yeah," He mumbled before bringing the cup to his lips.

"I don't think you should be," She whispered. They were in a public place, after all. And unfortunately it does look sketchy being with a man that isn't your fiancée at these hours. "Because this is what I want."

He snorted as he put his cup down, and stared at her with crossed arms. Why did she insist on lying? He knew her. Both inside and out. Probably knew more of her than her actual _future_ husband. He just knew when she lied because her eyes grew a few centimeters wider and she'd blink a hell of a lot faster. It was cute.

"You don't."

"What makes you say that?"

"What are you even trying to prove?"

She gaped at him. "N-nothing."

He hated it when she was like this. Miss 'Oh, let me _not_ tell you anything because I'm fucking scared of being told the truth to my face'. Just what was her issue? The inner conflict she had within herself was affecting him too. And he hated being out of the loop with anything that revolved around her.

"Bye." It took every part of him _not_ to turn the fuck around and push the glass door with the tiny bell above it to apologize. But why should he? Why should he apologize for her fucking mistakes? Or rather, apologize for a mistake she was _going_ to make?

Who the hell was she kidding? He brought his scarf to his face—it was so chilly out, then again he _had_ gotten to the tea shop at eight, so naturally the wind would speed up and with the lack of civilians in town there'd be no human contact to extract warmth from—and stuffed his hands into his pockets once more. The strides he took towards his apartment building took him awhile but nothing too long.

He was sick. He was sick of lies and having to live through them. Lies hurt. Whether he wanted this to happen or not, it did. Because who wants to be lied to? Think about it. What good comes from alternating the truth for your own benefit?

Bringing his spare key that he kept in his shoe to his lock, with enough pressure and every bit of strength his not too healthy body provided, he pushed his door open, to be greeted with darkness and a slightly less cold air that was his tiny one-room apartment.

'_I forgot to pay the energy bill_.' He mentally confirmed as he noticed the lack of lighting. If he had a cellphone, he probably would've just used that to see where he was going. Kicking off his sneakers, he headed to his tiny kitchen and snatched a candle and his lighter from his hidden drawer and lit said beige candle before placing it conveniently on his work desk. Right. He forgot he had work to get done. It was actually pretty dandy that his boss was laid-back and wasn't one of those guys that screamed at employees for their work right after assigning it.

'_But I was given it two weeks ago._' He groaned before snatching his notebook and pen and writing down what he'd have to type at the office the next morning. Yawning, he began to scribble whatever he remembered from the meeting. Who even paid attention to Pein's speeches anyway? He didn't.

At this moment, he wanted air. And by air he meant the wintery chills he felt on his walk back home. He didn't want to stare at the wooden blocks he nailed against said windows due to burglary in the area. What possessed him to move to Ikebukuro anyhow? Then again, if he hadn't, he wouldn't have a silly headache over some woman that was to be wedded with his closest friend. Yeah. Just reminding himself of what was destined to happen wasn't aiding it.

If he wasn't so keen on spending his spare change to visit her, he probably would've bought some aspirin. Because this shit _sucks_. The whole being poor thing. I mean it wasn't like he couldn't get his inheritance right away. After all, if he ever felt like it, he could just hit up his older sibling and would've been given a sweet pad like Naruto's.

If he _cared_ all that much about luxuries that he found a complete waste of cash. That was just him, though. But he was pretty sure someone as sweet and almost equivalent on cash as her wouldn't fall into the whole 'I'm rich now' façade. He hoped, of course.

You know, when you're in love, and you're an editor—you know, you're into the whole 'writing' thing, but you stick with it because it's all you're good for—you tend to fill up your notebooks from high school to conserve paper but also write what you _truly_ feel in the least possible place to look for any juicy information on the person you happen to fancy. And Uchiha Sasuke was guilty of being the secretive romantic.

Would he ever give them to her? Probably not. Why would he do that? Make her feel guilty and pity towards him? He really didn't need any of that.

There's a knock at his door, but he's too comfy to move even an inch to greet at said trespasser. Did he lock his door? Of course not, it's old and broken. Lord knows how he's able to sleep without worrying someone will break in and murder him in his sleep.

The person on the other side of his metal door is very persistent. He can tell the hand that is pounding on the door is low, meaning the person was short. But height clearly wasn't an issue, as the banging got progressively louder and louder.

"Who the hell is it?" He mumbled, just loud enough for the visitor to hear, to whom responded with another bang to his door.

Oh, but he was so _warm_. He didn't want to get up, honestly. But, if it ceased the noise, it was worth it. The editor groaned before scratching the tiny spot that was hidden by his wild bed hair before blinking a few times and pulling the door open.

To his utter surprise, he sees the one person he had been meaning to avoid for at _least_ a day.

"Why are you here?"

"So this is it?" She practically invites herself in, her plump lips forming into a smile. She takes off her huge jacket and apron—he assumed she left straight from the shop to his place—and dumped it on his desk. Not finding any other location in the cramped apartment to sit that wasn't filled with stacks of papers or other random objects, she decides to crawl underneath his blankets on his floor.

Rolling his eyes while trying to maintain his inner urge to smile at how perfect and cute she was, he turns and pushes his stupid door back into its former position and crawls right under the covers with her.

How long had it been since he had had her in his arms?

"I shouldn't be here," She mumbled into his chest. While her head was turned he used his free arm that wasn't wrapped around her and pulled her loose bun, releasing her dawn-tinted curls free from its previous state. He loved her hair. It was silky and smooth and he just loved seeing it down when it framed her face.

Her buns and ponytails were cute too, sure, but when her hair was down she just looked so at peace. What a lame way to put it but it worked.

"I know," He replies. Of course he knew. She was _engaged_. It made no sense for her to be here. But he knew that it was fine. Because this was how it _should_ be.

"I'm sorry I lied."

She wasn't cheating. She wasn't married yet so it was alright. It was alright that he was keeping her warm—I mean, he had an excuse! He didn't have heating, so the gentlemen-like thing to do is to, well, keep your guest warm, right?—with her shivering lightly against him, and her hot breath tickling what his scarf didn't hide.

"Mmm." He dug his nose into her neck and inhaled her. Inhaled the smell of the tea she made working at the shop all evening, inhaled her peach scented shampoo, inhaled the sweat and mixture of the snow from walking outside, just inhaled her everything. There was no accurate explanation he had to express how satisfied he was right now.

God, he wanted to kiss her. But unfortunately, he did have a conscience. And the idea of kissing where _Naruto_'s lips touched didn't seem at all desirable. He'd wait until she realized the whole situation was dumb and dumped his ass before stealing a kiss from her now chapped lips.

"Do you have any lip balm?" She mumbled. Her face was buried into his chest while he stroked her hair. Why waste money on heating when he could be right here with her to keep warm?

"Nah, but I can fix that myself." Yes, he was flirting. Not to flatter her, mainly to point out that yes, he felt like kissing the shit out of her and leaving her senseless with his touch and that yes, he needed her permission before proceeding.

"I'm tired."

"Sleep with me."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. No funny business, o-okay?"

His turn. "Fine. I _promise_." He knew that if her eyes weren't shut right now, they'd be staring at him and glowing.

"Mmmm, goodnight, Sasu."

* * *

_A/N: It's been a week since I turned sixteen and I love/hate it already. Hey guys. Sorry for late update on like, everything. I suck, I know. I've been listening to some pretty sappy music lately and this is the product of said time wasted (with no regret). I will update Inevitable Reality soon, if you reviewwww! ~personafour_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

When he awoke without her in his arms, there was this emptiness that he couldn't describe that felt like it was consuming his whole being. He lacked enough oxygen to breathe, the coldness that flung itself inside his tiny home caused his toes to shrivel up inside his socks for warmth, and yes, this really did ruin the already terrible Monday—because c'mon, Mondays fucking _blow_—because he knew that he'd have to withstand every bit of information he didn't want to hear from his annoying best friend that visits him frequently at the office he worked at.

Getting up from his comfortable spot on the floor, he yawned and did his morning stretches to fill in the joints that ached from his lack of flexibility during the night. Blowing out the candle that was half-way melting on his desk due to the fact that there was enough light (It was still a pretty dense, cloudy morning) to see his surroundings, he brushed his teeth, splashed water on his tired, pale face, and trimmed his already fucked-up hair (Haircuts? Who needs those?), so that he could see through the bed-hair curls that were inevitably going to remain in his face.

Before leaving his apartment, he noticed a small _Post-it_ on his door. It was a dull purple, half the size of a regular _Post-it_, and written in pen were a few words in elegant handwriting.

"_I do love you, I do a lot. But even that isn't enough._"

* * *

"How did the dinner go?" Uchiha Sasuke grumbled at his friend bitterly (Although this was an every-day thing for him) who sat across from him at the lunch table provided by the Ikebukuro local newspaper in their lounge. For a small paper service with only two other employees, it was pretty fucking sweet. Articles that had been featured internationally were framed in black frames and they hovered the modern, gray cabinets that were hung on the bare, white walls. There was a couch and a decent sized flat screen television that was on the News channel (And no one was allowed to change it, for Pein, his boss, did not allow such a thing) surrounded by non-bias magazines that were categorized by the audience, name, and prices in front of him, but instead of paying attention to anything else in his current surroundings, his eyes fixed themselves on the slob that was Uzumaki Naruto, who, like always, was chowing down on an Instant Ramen cup without a fork.

He had his cup brought to his lips as he chugged the remaining noodles and after a sigh of satisfaction, gave his clearly unused friend a grin. "Her friends are really nice, although TenTen is still grieving over Neji, so she's still sad."

"Which is understandable," Sasuke interjected defensively, for he knew first-hand what it felt like to lose the person you loved without a reason.

"And so was Hinata, she was, I don't know…" Naruto was twirling his empty Instant Ramen container in his hands, looking down at it intensely with a frown. "Different. She lost her family, you know? And I don't get why she's okay with it. In fact, instead of me cheering TenTen up, it was_ her_! It's weird. Hinata likes to surprise me."

'_That's because she never loved them. Minus Neji. But even he didn't earn her complete forgiveness, so of course she doesn't give a shit about it all_.'

It was just ironic how her fiancé had no idea of her true feelings and was so oblivious to it all. He wanted her to remind him why she was wedding with this idiot if he knew nothing _about_ her like he did. Naruto doesn't deserve her, and he won't be proven otherwise.

"Some people react differently to stressful situations. She's probably coping in a calmer manner and is just better at being subtle about it," He mentioned with a wave of his thin hand casually. This whole thing was just so stupid it was aggravating. And the coffee machine in the lounge ran out of coffee beans so he had to settle for _Apple juice_.

Uchiha Sasuke has never had this problem and that just further proves his point that Mondays are the shittiest days of the week.

"You're probably right," His blond friend sighed. "I just worry, 'ya know? I want her to be happy. Always. But I feel as though lately I've done the opposite."

'_Well, no shit_.' Sasuke wanted to say. Badly. He felt the words nibbling at his tongue to release his true thoughts, but chose against it. What good would it do if he became a home wrecker?

And no matter how much he hated Naruto for ruining his life by taking away the woman that will forever claim his heart as a prize and instead rejected it for Naruto's, the dobe was still his best friend, and his only one, at that. And no matter what, he didn't like seeing his friend upset either.

Fuck, this was so difficult it physically ached his side.

"I'll talk to her." He concluded as he stood up.

Naruto's eyes perked like bullets at the standing figure being his best friend. "Would you really?"

"Sure."

"Thanks! I so owe you!"

"Yeah, yeah." His heart was hurting again. And in this emotionally way that send waves to his spine and forehead. This was so annoying he just wanted all of it to end. He was thankful office was insulated with heat, because he felt this sudden urge to want to shiver to the bone like he does at home, just for the sake of feeling unpleasant to ache his pain. "But get out. I have to work, and you do, too."

Laughing, the blond nodded. "No worries, I'll stay off your back."

This was fucking hard.

* * *

"Naruto isn't happy that you seem fine with your family dying and shit." Cutting to the chase was Uchiha Sasuke's specialty. He excelled at this, which was why he made a fine journalist and editor for the Ikebukuro's local paper, _Akatsuki Record_. His skills not only kept his audience interested, but also made enough to buy tomatoes for his lunches and dinners at home.

He had no change for tea today, so instead took the liberty of dragging the waitress outside in the alley where no one would interrupt or witness any of their interactions, and she didn't seem to have a problem with it.

Of course she didn't.

"He doesn't _know_…" She mumbled, biting her lip and staring at the man she regretted rejecting. This whole thing was such a game, and unnecessary one at that. But once you're playing, and you make your move, you can't go back, there are only moves you can make forward, and you can't erase anything else.

"I know he doesn't. And he _should_. You're marrying that idiot, remember?"

"Don't call him that!" She shouted rather silently. She didn't like yelling at Sasuke. It made her feel…unpleasant. And she hated _that_. But how ironic that she was defending someone she really didn't love as much as she loved him, and yet still didn't admit to any of it.

Cheating? Wasn't like her. She was avoiding that. She was not going to become a sinner. She made her commitment, was abiding it, whether she liked it or not.

Her Father pressured her into pursing her childhood crush for a second try, and here she was, engaged to him. In two months, they would wed. And who knows, have children, as most married couples do.

That would ultimately be the end of Uchiha Sasuke as well.

"He's only going to be your husband legally. He doesn't satisfy you like I do." He mumbled as he lit his cigarette between his thin fingers. He didn't mean for it to sound so sexual, but it was true. He loved her, she loved him, why was this equation so difficult to get, and why was she placing additional exponents to said equation in order to complicate things? Shit made no sense anymore.

His lungs felt weak, his heart was pounding rather hard, his eyelids felt heavy, all he wanted as a nap and tea.

"Just tell me one thing. Why are you with him if he doesn't make you happy?" He wanted to get this off his chest. It was a pain that felt a little better knowing it was released into their conversation. Knowing he was going to get an answer was enough to satisfy his conscience, but not his heart.

"He _will_." She said bravely. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail, her eyes, as white as ever, matching the dull sky that hovered the whole city. You could hear the honks from other cars due to the traffic at this hour, but even that wasn't loud enough to disrupt both their thoughts. "And then it'll be fine."

"But it isn't fine _now_." Tossing his cigarette into the snowy puddle, he leaned towards her and placed his forehead against hers. "If you're not happy, what's the point?" His breathe smelled of nicotine and even that didn't decrease his attractiveness.

Why was he was so _close_? Did he not know boundaries? Her heart was escalating, her eyes were watering, her fingers latched on his sides and brought his frozen corpse-like figure against her warm one.

She just wanted this to end. This _nightmare_. This whole getting married thing. She wouldn't mind marriage, if it wasn't with anyone but Sasuke. And even _he_ knew this. But both of them were stubborn and awkward, and preferred to argue at every given moment instead of complying their wants and needs accordingly to end the feud.

And both of them didn't want to hurt Uzumaki Naruto, no matter how badly they had to keep themselves from doing so.

"It'll make everyone happy," She says.

"Minus you," He retorted.

"I'm happy right now, though." She's smiling. When was the last time she felt the muscles on her face create this very-much true image?

"But that isn't enough." The 'right now' thing was temporal. In two months, she'll remain miserable. In two months, he'll contemplate many terrible choices and avoid them both at all costs if she goes through with it all. "By the way, your _Post-It_ was cute. I'm keeping it."

She laughs. "I wish I could say it, but I can't. So I wrote it."

He rolls his eyes. "I love you too," He says honestly. His eyes are closed, and he turns his head slightly to cough at the wall next to him.

"But like you wrote, that isn't enough."

Kissing her forehead, his stuffs his hands in his pockets, and leaves the lonely waitress to herself in the alley, in which she, once again, falls and weeps over the soon-to-be tragedy.

* * *

_Author's Note: What's gotten into me? I'm a bitter bitch. This story is going to turn into a cryptic soap opera. Not really, but I mean, their lives suck, right? I'll get more in depth soon, I promise. I like the whole idea of people trying to avoid their problems. And that is what I am incorporating into this. Enjoy, review, leave me criticism and not one-three word things (Because I personally detest those 'reviews', although all in general are appreciated). _

_Love, personafour._


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